Immortal Friend
by Cory Holmes
Summary: The crew of the seaQuest have their lives turned upside down when they discover a secret one of their own has been keeping.
1. Prologue

Lucas couldn't believe it had finally happened. Ben was dead. Five gunshots to the chest had ensured that his best friend wouldn't be getting up any time soon. His body was laid out on a bed in sickbay, the result of Doctor Westphalen's ultimately futile efforts to save him. His uniform was stained dark red with his own blood.

It took the teenager a moment to realise that he wasn't alone anymore. Standing beside him was Tim O'Neil, the quiet communications officer whom Lucas knew to be close to Ben.

Lucas' breath froze in his chest as he realised that Ben would never again enjoy the zeal of life that he once did. Even though his over-the-top persona made Lucas like the guy, it occasionally annoyed Tim and some of the others, it royally irritated the straight-laced XO of the _seaQuest _to the point where Commander Ford had given Ben some really horrible fitness reports. And it was well known what his ex-wife had thought of his zeal... Oh, god! Katie!

Lucas spun around as the brunette engineer stepped beside him, her blue eyes as expressive as her face was unreadable. Katie Hitchcock's gaze was locked onto the still form of her ex-husband. He took her hand in his own, and she jumped at the contact. He squeezed, as much for his support as for hers and was relieved when she squeezed back.

Lucas still couldn't bring himself to contemplate the fact that he would never see Ben and Katie interact again. The two had undeniable chemistry, even though it was occasionally explosive. Ben and Katie were often the most entertaining thing for the sub crew to watch and gossip about. The gossip and rumours ranged from wondering if they were still in love or not, to wondering if they were still sleeping together!

Beside Katie stood Commander Ford, adding his silent support to his friend, even though he didn't like her ex-husband one bit. Lucas knew the Commander found Ben to be an annoying, lazy, irritating who had absolutely no self-discipline at all. Those were qualities that Lucas found... had found... in his friend that made him who he was. Ben was an adult that had no trouble being immature and playful when it suited him. He had absolutely no trouble in making a perfect fool of himself if it got him what he wanted, or just a laugh. In fact, that's what made him... had made him... a perfect morale officer, his ability to make people laugh when they were feeling their worst.

Even the Captain of the boat made an appearance. Ben had been good friends with Captain Bridger's late son, Robert. Ben and the captain had spent many off-duty hours together, regaling each other with tales of mischief and misanthropic adventures stemming from Robert Bridger's life.

Two enlisted crew members also joined the small party in the Medway: Miguel Ortiz and Manilo Crocker, the sonar chief and security chief. Lucas knew them to be as annoyed with Ben as much as Tim, but that they also found his zest for life irresistible and his sense of humour infectious.

When Dr. Westphalen and walked in to join them, the Brit sadly shook her head, and was the first to break the silence. Turning to Katie, she softly said, I'm sorry, there was nothing that could be done for him. The damage was just too extensive, the blood loss too great.

With the silence at last broken, it was if nobody could keep from talking.

How did this happen? Chief Crocker asked.

It was supposed to be a simple supply run. No one thought he'd be mugged on his way back to the boat, Ford returned.

Mugged? That's a lot of firepower for a simple mugging, Crocker shot back indignantly.

Is there anyone we should notify? Any family? the Captain asked Katie, apparently embarrassed about not knowing that information about his own officer. The young woman shook her head side to side.

No one still alive. The rest of his family died long ago, the Chief Engineer said, her voice oddly steady and calm. Lucas turned to her in shock at the apparent disregard for what had just happened. Ben died! Didn't she care about that at all?

Apparently, Lucas wasn't the only one to pick up on that. Commander Ford laid a hand on her shoulder and lowered his voice. It'll be all right, Katie. This may hurt for a while, but things will turn out okay.

That's not it, Jonathan. It's just that... she trailed off, unable to say what she had on her mind. You'll see, she eventually managed out. You'll see that things won't be okay, they're already okay.

Lucas finally blurted out. Ben's dead! Can't you see that? He's gone! How can things be okay?

It's just that... you'll see, she answered, unable to say what was on her mind. Lucas could see Ford struggling to not shake some sense into the woman, a sentiment Lucas shared. If she cared this little about Ben, why didn't she tell him to buzz off long ago, instead of playing the game that she did with him.

And it was a strange game, indeed. At times, it seemed like Ben was still pursuing her and she brushing him off; at other times, it was she who was getting the brush off. Either way, it still looked like Ben and Katie were flirting, if such a tame term could be applied to them. Divorce notwithstanding, the two officers still cared very deeply about each other, as proven by their behaviour during the Broken Ridge incident. Although he knew better, Lucas occasionally thought, hoped, that the rumours of Ben and Katie sleeping together were true. He wanted his friends to be happy with each other again.

But Lucas couldn't reconcile her current behaviour with what he knew she felt for Ben. It just didn't fit, which made Lucas wonder what Katie was doing.

What's up? he asked finally when he was unable to come up with any reason. Katie only smiled softly and pointed at Ben's body.

Just watch.

Lucas turned and looked at the body, tears stinging his eyes. His friend was dead... and Katie was nuts. That's all it could be, shock at Ben's death. Lucas nodded to himself, turned and looked at the adults around him. He could see that conclusion coming to them as well, it was the only one that made sense.

Captain Bridger stepped forward and took Katie's free hand in his own. I'm really sorry for this.

Just wait. You'll see.

What are you talking about? What are we going to see- Commander Ford started, but was interrupted by Benjamin Krieg's dead body gasping in a lungfull of air and lurching off of the examining table.

Six pairs of unbelieving eyes and one pair of expectant eyes turned to look at the good Lieutenant, who was sitting up and heaving for breath. No one spoke for a moment, until Lucas was unable to stay silent any longer, having to confirm what his eyes just told him happened.

he croaked out. His friend's head snapped up, as if taking notice of his audience for the first time. Ben looked at them for a long moment, then down to his chest. He pulled off his uniform tunic and looked at the six puckered marks where bullet holes had been but moments before. Back up at the collection of people. Back down to his chest. His eyes widened as he understood what was going on.

Aw, crap, he muttered.


	2. Chapter 1

Shocked silence reigned over the sickbay once again. Each witness tried to comprehend what he or she saw in their own way, to hope to understand what happened. But they couldn't. Their minds just couldn't accept the fact that the recently-dead body of Ben Krieg was now awake and breathing as if nothing had happened. Finally someone articulated the same thought all shared:

What the _hell_ just happened? Captain Bridger demanded.

What did what just happen? Krieg asked lamely, clearly trying to avoid that very question.

Don't be coy! You were dead.

I was? came back to the captain. Wow. What a trip, huh? Who knew being the Quartermaster was such a dangerous profession? Krieg asked and then laughed at his own joke. He looked down at his now-smooth chest, then back up at the group of people surrounding him.

You'd died. Your heart had stopped, all brain function ceased. How are you walking and talking now? Westphalen asked, her tone reasonable but with steel underneath.

Lucas was still unable to bring himself to speak, unable to clear his mind of the cobwebs. Beside him, Katie only sighed.

I think you should tell them, Ben. They've seen it, and now they need to know. Although he didn't answer, Ben turned to look at his ex-wife and stared at her for a long moment. He came to a decision of some kind because when he turned back to the group of people, his eyes had changed.

The spark of humour had drained out of them. They were deep and expressive dark orbs that suddenly held the world in their view. Lucas could feel the air in his chest freeze; he didn't know Ben could look so intense when he dropped the idiot routine.

I think we should continue this in the Ward Room, we're going to need the privacy, Ben said, and there was an undertone of command in his voice that no one had ever suspected of existing. His tone broached no argument, and even Captain Bridger didn't make any protests about being ordered around by a junior officer.

Lucas could dimly hear Commander Ford whisper to Katie, asking what they were going to be told. Katie didn't answer him, only leading the way to their new location.

Once they were seated in the Ward Room, all eyes turned expectantly to Ben, who elected to remain standing and leaned against the vidscreen at the end of the conference table. He briefly closed his eyes and sighed to himself, and when his eyes opened, they had that same quality they had before, that air of power that Lucas had seen.

What I'm about to tell you is going to be hard to believe. Some of you won't even accept it, but it's the truth. What you do with it is up to you.

When Ford opened his mouth to ask something, Ben paid him no heed and simply kept talking.

I am immortal and I cannot die. That's something you seven just saw a few moments ago.

But you did die, Westphalen broke in after a moment. Medically, you were dead. No heartbeat, no respiration. You were dead.

You take me too literally. I can die, I just don't stay dead. I heal from all injuries at an accelerated pace. Once my wounds have been healed, I wake up and can move around like I am now.

Silence reigned for a moment as the assembled group tried to comprehend what they were just told, what they'd just seen.

What about old age, disease, or poison? Captain Bridger finally asked, obviously having difficulty with what he was hearing, but unable to deny what he'd seen.

I am untouched by all those things. Old age is no contest, my body doesn't carry disease, and poison will only kill me until I wake up.

Old age? Lucas echoed, finally able to articulate a thought. You look like you're in your early thirties. Ben shook his head at that, a small smile playing on his lips. Lucas tried. Another shake. Lucas' tone was one of exasperation, wondering how high he was going to go.

Higher still. 

Lucas could feel his eyes widening at the implication. he croaked. Ben only shrugged and smiled again. Lucas leaned forward and put his head in his hands, trying to breathe properly and not pass out.

This isn't possible, Tim O'Neil broke in, the shy linguist finally speaking for the first time since Ben's body had been brought to the boat. No one can live forever, Ben. It's not natural.

You're right, it's not natural. But it's true. I've been walking this Earth for many times longer than you have and I cannot die. You can stab me, shoot me, poison me, throw me off of a cliff, drown me, or do anything else you can come up with, and I'll just wake up from it, Ben answered, his intense gaze focusing on the younger man, who shrank back into his chair.

It's true, Katie said. I've seen him beaten and shot, and he's recovered from it every time. He can't die.

Her support of her ex-husband drowned everyone into silence again, each person trying to come to grips with what they'd been told.

Lucas was shocked to discover that he'd already accepted the truth on some unconscious level, that he could believe his friend wasn't lying, no matter how ludicrous the truth was. But Lucas was even more shocked to discover that the mechanics and reasons why didn't interest him as much as the reality of living forever. Having been around as long as he apparently had, Ben had to have seen or been a part of some of history's most important events.

What's it like? a voice asked. It took Lucas a moment to realise that it was his. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves before going on with, I mean, you've just told us that you're immortal and that you can't die. What's it like, living for that long? How many things have you seen or been a part of? How do you go on like you are, alone?

Of all the answers he'd been thinking of, he wasn't expecting Ben to throw his head back and laugh. Who said I was alone?

You don't mean that... Ortiz spoke up.

Yep. There are others like me. Others who live forever and can't die.

How many more? Ford asked in a small voice, almost afraid of the answer.

Relax, Ford. Not many. A tiny handful, compared to the mortals around us. A very tiny handful, so you needn't worry about being outnumbered. We're a very rare breed of human, guys.

Geez... do you know any of these others?

A few are friends, a few are enemies, and a lot are strangers. There are enough that I don't know them all, personally or by reputation.

And what do you do? What does your kind do? Ford snorted, meeting Ben's glare unflinchingly.

You're missing the point, Ford, Ben returned, his jaw tight and very consciously avoiding use of the Commander's rank, something Lucas knew that always irritated Ford. I'm not some weird alien, and neither are the others. We're regular people, just like you. The only difference is that we don't die.

If you've been around for so long, Bridger broke in, trying to head off the building confrontation at the pass, what things have you seen? I mean, what events in history were you a part of?

I've been on every continent, sailed in nearly every ocean, ridden across Europe and parts of Asia, driven from coast to coast in North America, spent time in Africa... Ben trailed off, shrugging and smiling. Boredom can drive you to many things.

How does it work? I mean, what makes you immortal? Dr. Whestphalen asked, acceptance beginning to sink in.

Who knows? I certainly don't.

Blood samples or DNA?

Nothing. No difference between an immortal and mortal.

Can I have some samples? I want to look at them.

What good would that do? How many physicals have you given me already? Three, right? And during any of those exams, did you note anything odd or out of the ordinary? Whestphalen had to shake her head reluctantly. Given that, what difference would one more sample make? No one else in these last hundred years or so of modern medicine have found anything yet, and you won't. Whatever makes me different from you, it doesn't show up in biology.

Whestphalen was obviously crestfallen, hoping that maybe there had been something, anything, to logically explain what had happened to Ben. Why hasn't anyone else learned of you before? Any of you? she asked instead.

Who'd believe it? I mean, who'd believe that people could live forever? Heck, you seven have just seen it firsthand and still don't believe it completely. That's why I'm not really worried about you going to the papers or anything of the sort, you'll be laughed out so fast it'll make your head spin.

Look, people. I know this is hard for you to accept. No, really. I do know. I had to accept the truth of it myself when I first became like this. So I know that you'll have trouble believing the reality of it, I know you'll need some time to really, truly accept what you now know I am, Ben said, finally taking a seat at the table and folding his hands in front of him. So ask anything you want, and I'll try my best to answer you.

How did you become immortal? Crocker asked. Ben shrugged.

I died my first death. Until that happened, I could be cut, stabbed, or burned just like anyone else. I got sick and bled. That's when I got all my scars that you've seen. But then I died, impaled on a sword. Needless to say, I was shocked when I woke up from it.

What happened then?

I left my home, unable to stay. I wandered across most of the Mediterranean for the next hundred years. I rode to England and wandered around there for a bit. I hit all of the British Isles, France, Spain. From there, I went back to Rome and Italy. I spun through India for a short time, China for an even shorter amount of time. I spent less than a year in Japan itself. He shrugged again, as if trying to say something with his physical actions that words couldn't express. I've had the time to go all the places feet and horse could take me. Africa, Australia, North and South America. I've been everywhere on the globe. Now I'm under the water, exploring what I couldn't on the surface.

His speech of his history ended to silence in the ward room. Why did you join the military? Lucas asked, something clicking in his mind. If Ben had spent as much time wandering the world as he claimed, he must've really enjoyed the freedom of that. Ben shrugged again.

Why is anything ever done? It seemed like a good idea at the time, he smiled.

How long do you live... last... whatever? the ever-quiet O'Neil piped up.

Which part of is unclear to you, Tim? Ben asked with a wry smile. For a serious answer, I'd have to say that we last forever. An example that you could understand would be of a legend among Immortals. The oldest of us is an immortal so old that he can't remember the time of his birth. According to legend, this man's name is Methos, and that he pre-dates most of civilization itself, perhaps remembering as much as five thousand years of living before it begins to blur.

Five _thousand_? Lucas squeaked. Ben nodded.

A very long, pregnant pause followed, as the shell-shocked people tried to understand.

Don't you have any questions to ask, Commander? Whestphalen asked quiety, trying to keep from passing out. Katie only shook her head.

Nah, we covered this already years ago, before we'd been married. That was fun, she smiled, remembering. I had fun with that.

I'm glad one of us did, Ben returned dryly, a touch of his old humour showing through the gravity of the situation. I, however, didn't enjoy those hours.

Katie dismissed with a wave of her hand. We both know you did, so stop trying to deny it.

Who said I'm trying? I am denying.

Despite the incongruity of the situation, Lucas saw Captain Bridger smiling. The banter between the two had, as usual, made light of a heavy situation; just like what'd happened at the Broken Ridge briefing. However, just like at that time, the gravity of what they were there to do brought them together, and the Captain had to remind them of that.

We have another problem to discuss. How do we explain to the crew what just happened? I mean, there's no way we could explain to them what you just told us, Lieutenant.

And I wouldn't, either. I don't like telling you six about this, but you've seen with your own eyes something you shouldn't have; you have direct proof of what I am. I'm just giving you answers to keep you from digging where you shouldn't and possibly expose my secret to those who really shouldn't know, Ben said firmly.

I understand, but what do we tell the nurses who brought you in, the crew that your gurney passed in the hallway?

Oh, them, Ben said breezily. That's easy. Just tell anyone who asks that I was so drunk from some non-authorised shore leave while on my supply run that I decided to come back to the boat with some fake bullet wounds to make you all jump and scream.

Everyone in the room blinked and looked at each other. It was such a simple solution that it just might work, especially given Krieg's well-known predilection for over-the-top games of absurdity and stupidity when it came to getting a laugh. It didn't matter if those games succeeded or not, he just loved playing them. It was weird that a man as old as he now claimed to be could be as immature as Ben had been at times.

Something in that thought tickled the back of Lucas' mind. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought. But it was no use, it refused to move into the light. Stifling a groan, he simply put his head in his hands again and sighed deeply.

Ben said, hurt. It'll work. It has before, and no one was the wiser. I think it's got the best chance of working, and no one else has come up with anything we can use. Besides, I've been doing this for a lot longer than you have and I think this plan as a good chance of working.

The assembled audience turned to Katie, as if asking her permission to go ahead with this absurd plan. She only shrugged again. As he said, he's been doing this for a long time.

The assembled mortals looked at each other and nodded to each other. You do realise that this'll mean a note on your record, right?

So what? It's not like I'm really aiming to spend a long time in the UEO. Ben's answer was met with gasps and shocked looks from the career-minded officers, including Katie. Don't look so surprised. I'd have to give up and move on in a decade or so anyway. As soon as people realise that I'm not aging like the rest of you, I'm going to have to leave and change jobs.

So this was just a temporary thing? Ford snorted. Lucas knew that Jonathan was easily the most devoted soldier he'd ever met, and looked down on anybody else who had nothing but the utmost dedication to the military.

A temporary thing' that would easily last two or three decades, Ford, Ben countered, again deliberately avoiding the use of rank. Ford grit his teeth in anger, but Ben cut him off. You've got to stop thinking in small timelines, people. Temporary' could be a few decades, long-term' could easily be centuries, and a commitment' could be much longer than that. Never forget that I think in terms and lengths that you simply cannot understand.

Lucas opened his mouth to refute that, but he was interrupted by a message from the bridge. UEO Secretary General Noyce was calling to ask Bridger what the hell was going on with the flagship.

Bridger thought for a long moment, then dismissed the crew to take the call in the Ward Room and maybe calm down his friend, to explain that it was all a giant mistake by one of his more junior officers.


	3. Chapter 2

Kristen Whestphalen sat in front of her microscope, peering intently at the blood sample. She'd given Krieg his physical exam again, to declare him fit for duty after his little . Writing the report, lying on the report about Krieg's blood alcohol level and the extent of his had almost made her nauseous. She was a professional, and she never lied on her reports. Until now.

She reflected remorsefully that she'd been so wrapped up with her own difficulties in writing that report that she didn't even talk to the Lieutenant. She still had difficulty in accepting his explanation about his immorality, but nothing else would work.

She was, she thought, taking the news pretty well. The knowledge that Ben was however many hundreds of years old that he was and that he couldn't die. That just didn't happen, people didn't live forever. But he did. There was just no denying what she'd seen, no matter how much her scientific mind demanded that it couldn't be real.

So she worked on his blood sample, trying to find something, anything, to scientifically explain why Ben could live through that many gunshots or come back from the dead.

I'd give up, if I were you, the voice came from beside her, making her jump off of her chair in shock. She whipped her head around and glared at a smiling Katie, who was seated beside her.

What was that? Kristen asked when she could finally talk without glaring.

Give up on trying to explain what's different about Ben, Kristen. There's nothing for you to find.

You're so sure of that, Kristen shot back. Science can have the answer, if you look for it long enough.

Sure, but people have been looking for at least a hundred years now and haven't found anything. What makes you think that you will? Look, I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm just trying to save you some time, a little pride, and maybe help you to understand.

Kristen sighed deeply. It's just that my whole life has been about finding scientific answers to the world around me, and now Ben is asking me to go without it. That's not easy for me to do.

That's not easy for anyone to do. I had the hardest time trying to accept what Ben is and what that means.

Yeah, I've been meaning to ask you. How exactly did you find out about Ben's immortality? Before or after you were married? Kristen asked, though she normally gave the Lieutenant Commander her privacy regarding her marriage to Krieg.

Katie answered promptly. Actually, that's how we met, she snickered.

What's so funny?

Ben fell out of a fifth-floor window and landed right in front of me. Flat on his back on the concrete sidewalk, staring up at me with sightless eyes that suddenly had sight in them... I tell you, it's weird seeing someone come back from the dead right before your eyes.

I understand, now, Kristen answered back in a low voice.

True. Anyway, there was really no way to avoid telling me or fudging the truth a bit. Not after that. So he took me to an all-night cafe, waited for the shock to fade away, and tried to explain it to me.

Yeah, I wasn't too receptive at first. Much like you were, I might add. Anyway, when that didn't work, he took me back to to his place. Kristen's eyes grew wide at that. Oh, get your mind out of the gutter! Katie exclaimed at the other woman, who at least had the good graces to blush. 

He showed me some of the souvenirs he's picked up over the last few hundred years. Given what I'd seen and was being shown, it was pretty hard to ignore the truth of the matter. After that... Katie trailed off, and Kristen left it at that, not wanting to ask questions about the marriage that weren't really any of her business.

While Kristen was really interested in finding out the specifics of Ben and Katie's break-up, like every other member of the crew, she instead forced herself to ask a different question.

What kind of stuff does Ben have? You said he has a lot souvenirs.

That he does. Paintings, old pictures, momentos from the various times, old newspaper clippings, Katie answered, but then hesitated. Swords. He's got a lot of swords.

was all Kristen could say. To think that Ben's the collecting type is hard to believe.

Actually, he's more of the pack-rat type, Katie answered.

Kristen asked incredously. I never would've imagined that.

Believe it. He's got junk going back for I don't know how many decades or centuries.

Kristen said softly, still unable to truly grasp the enormity of the fact that Ben was several times her own age. I wonder how many times he's rolled his eyes whenever I called him young man'? she asked.

Oh, he's probably used to it by now. Besides, being treated like that serves him right for dying when he was still young enough to be hot.

Kristen asked with an arched brow, having to bite the inside of her cheek to avoid blurting her shock out loud. Did Katie say what Kristen just heard?

Katie asked, apparently seeing the look on Kristen's face.

Just trying to wrap my brain around what I just heard, Kristen fibbed, hoping Katie wouldn't call her bluff.

Anyway, his living room was a sight to see. Sometimes I think it'd be fun just to see his other houses, to see what they're decorated like.

Other houses?  
Yeah, he's a dozen properties around the world, all picked up in one decade or another, Katie said, then grinned. We took a trip to Rome when we were married. Nice city, great views, and his place there... Katie trailed off, lost in the past. We spent a month there, seeing all the sights and hearing him tell how the city has changed over time.

Wow, that is so romantic, Kristen awed.

That's one thing Ben is never lacking in, Katie agreed cheerfully.

Maybe I should take lessons, then, a third voice piped up from behind the ladies. The two women whirled around to see Lucas standing there, grinning ear-to-ear.

Absolutely not! Kristen commanded, easily reverting to old form. In no way, shape, or form will you ever take _any _advice from Ben Krieg. Capice?

I capice, Lucas said duitifully, though his eyes told otherwise.

Excuse me, Katie said, rising to her feet and leaving. We'll be arriving in New York in two days and I've got a lot of work to do before then.

Oh, speaking of that, what are your plans? Kristen asked.

Malls. Many, many malls. Shops for as far as the eye can see. My credit card may end up hating me, but it'll be worth it.

Oooh, count me in, the other woman said. What about you, Lucas?

The boy shrugged self-consiously. I dunno. Wander around with Ben, I guess.

Good luck with that, Lucas. He's got other plans, Katie said, an odd look on her face.

Other plans?

Yeah, he's going to be meeting up with some old friends, or so he says.

Old friends? Lucas and Kristen echoed together, their studiously indifferent voices betraying their thoughts.

That's what he said. Whether or not they're... Katie trailed off, unable to complete the thought herself. Anyway, I've got to be going, she said, leaving the two behind to deal with their own problems in their own way.


	4. Chapter 3

  


New York. The Statue of Liberty dominated the view on the surface, but the mighty ship travelling underneath the water was completely oblivious to it.

The air on board was understandably charged, everyone itching to get a few days out of the metal tube they all called home and back into the real world.

So tell me again what you're doing, Lucas pressed.

I'm meeting up with some friends of mine, Ben answered. What about you, since you won't be able to hang around with me?

I'm gonna meet with someone I met over the InterNex, the teen answered. Her name is Heather.

Ben asked, his eyes lighting up.

Shaddup. Must you always think like that?

Of course, it's who I am, Ben answered shamelessly, ducking to avoid a conduit in Lucas' Mammal Engineering quarters.

Yeah, and you keep that attitude with women and you'll end up in trouble.

You're giving me romance advice? Ben asked incrediously. Let me tell you something, kiddo. I have more experience with woman than you ever will. Centuries of women in more countries than you've been to.

And how many kids with them? Lucas asked, certain he'd scored a point.

None, actually. A side-effect of immortality is complete sterility. No immortal has children, ever.

Never in your whole life? Lucas asked, and again that half-thought formed in his mind. Lucas could tell it was an important question or idea, but he just couldn't get a grip on it.

Nope. Great for worry-free sex, Ben said, grinning at the deep shade of red that spread across Lucas' face.

Stop that! Lucas sputtered, cuffing Ben on the arm in frustration and embarrassment.

Why? Seeing you turn red like that is so much fun. Lucas cuffed Ben again, this time for kicks. Anyway, how long have you known this girl?

She's not a girl Ben, she's a woman. Eighteen years old. And I've been talking to her for about a year now, on and off. Just never been to New York City before, so I've never had the chance of meeting her.

Ah. Don't wear the red shirt. That's a date-killer, Ben advised and was greeted with another blush.

It's not a date, the teen mumbled, surreptitiously putting the red shirt away and trying to pick a new one.

Sure it's not. Anyway, a good place to take her is the Statue. Fun times to be had there. What does she look like?

How would I know?

Because I know you well enough to understand that you've already got a picture of this woman. And since I know it, you might as well stop denying it and just show me.

Lucas sighed and keyed up the picture. Ben gave a low whistle of appreciation. Definitely take her to the Statue. Fun times will abound with a hot woman like that. Lucas cuffed him again.

You're a dirty old man, you know that?

I was a dirty young man. I haven't changed.

  


Outside Mammal Engineering, Captain Bridger came to a halt, Jonathan stopping with him. Lucas seems to be taking things in stride, the older man commented.

Certainly better than I am. I still have trouble believing that Ben's as old as he claims. It just doesn't seem possible. But then I stop and think about what I saw and what he said... there's just no other explanation.

Too true, Commander. I suppose it's one those things that only time will help with. And speaking of time, how much do we have until we hit land? The Captain asked, very carefully turning the subject back onto safer grounds.

On schedule. The meeting party is on the dock, right above where we'll surface. Should be a pretty good show, I think.

Good, good, Bridger agreed, knowing he could leave the problem in the Commander's capable hands and not worry.

The friends and families have all been issued updated times about when they're allowed to greet the crew, and even some tours have been arranged. The joys of being the flagship... Ford trailed off, sighing in disgust at the thought of all those unauthorised civilians poking around his boat.

Yes, the great joys. Live with it, Jonathan. It's going to happen again. And again. And again, Bridger answered, his own voice betraying his agreement with Ford. Just make sure Crocker posts his best guards at all the restricted areas to keep pesky families out of places they really shouldn't be poking into.

Already taken care of, sir. They'll be posted and waiting before we completely disembark, just in case.

Excellent. What are your plans? Ford shrugged uncomfortably at the change in conversation.

No real plans. Probably wander around a few of the other ships and boats in dock. Maybe catch a movie or two, but I'll probably stick around here to play tour guide.

Bridger smiled at that. The joys of being the captain sometimes included avoiding such duties. In their place was having to deal with idiotic admirals, so it evened out in the end. I wish you the best of luck, Commander, he said, and then walked off to attend to his own meetings after sparing Mammal Engineering one final look, at the ancient man and young teenager engaging in light-hearted banter.

Jonathan stood in his place for a few moments longer, still trying to convince himself that yes, Ben Krieg was immortal. He was having such a hard time with that that it wasn't until said crewman was standing beside him that Ford came back to reality.

I'm sorry. What as that, Lieutenant?

Just asking if you had any more questions that might help to set your mind at ease, Commander. It's rather obvious what you're thinking.

Jon opened his mouth, then closed it again. I don't think so, Ben. I think it'll just take... some time.

Krieg answered with an odd little smile on his face, not like any grin that was normally on his face. Time is one thing I have an intimate relationship with. The smile fell from his face. It can heal wounds or it can worry them to the point of insanity. More than a few immortals have lost their minds completely due to the ravages of time. One can easily lose touch with the mortals around us, forget how easily you die. And we can forget that when you do die, it's forever. That you don't come back. It's another thing to be too close to you mortals. We go on while everyone we care for around us dies. Be it through injury, illness, or simple old age, every mortal dies in the end. It makes knowing you on a personal level... difficult.

If that's so, why did you get to know Katie? She's as mortal as I am, Jonathan could hear himself asking, though he most certainly didn't mean to say that.

The question appeared to bring Ben up short, since his gaze unfocused, as if looking at something far away. When the immortal did answer, it was in a whisper almost too soft to hear, 

And with that one anguish-filled word, all of Jonathan's remaining doubts were washed away like so much water. Ben Krieg was immortal and nothing would change that truth.

  



	5. Chapter 4

Hey, Adam! Duncan's head turned at the shout, wondering if the new century had killed a few of his IQ points. What he was doing there was beyond him. Methos just said that he wanted to meet a friend and had insisted that Duncan come with him. Duncan never suspected that this friend would be in the navy, or worse yet, a member of the _seaQuest._

Duncan sighed to himself. Nothing wrong with that on the surface, but MacLeod was the sort of person that believed in keeping a low profile, and there was simply no way to keep one of those while serving on the flagship. He sighed again. This UEO was a good idea, but he'd seen many good ideas come and go over the last four hundred years and decided that waiting to see what would come from the new life humanity was making for itself under the sea would be the prudent thing.

Of course, Methos never was a prudent man. Ben! Over here! the older immortal waved madly, sticking his hand above the crowd of families. Then Duncan paused as a familiar, low throb started at the base of his skull. Out of the corner of his eye, Duncan saw Methos subtly straighten up and take a closer look at every one around; a natural reaction for any immortal feeling the buzz that signalled another was close.

The two men fought their way through the crush of people and up to the head of the docks, where the huge ship was berthed on the surface and Duncan gave a low whistle. It was nothing if not impressive.

Another man was fighting his way through the people to get to the two immortals. He was a little over average height, with dark hair and blue eyes, but filled out the uniform nicely, showing a love of the gym equipment. MacLeod also noted that neither arm was larger than the other, which told him that this immortal had no preference for a sword arm.

Methos appeared to not care for that as he rushed to embrace the other man, shaking his hand madly and grinning like a fool. You salty, annoying, irritating...

You just listed all my best features, Adam.

If those are your best, remind me to stay away from your worst, Methos grinned, then turned to Duncan. Duncan Macleod of the Clan MacLeod. Meet Ben Krieg, of... well... insanity. Duncan nodded his head in greeting, which Kreig returned.

Connor's clansman, right? He spoke of you in the some of his letters.

You knew Connor?

A friend for a number of years. I was sorry to hear that he died. I hadn't spoken to him in a long while, but it's never easy to lose a friend.

MacLeod said, already feeling at ease around Krieg. Then something occured to him. What's your job on your ship?

Supply and Moral officer, Krieg grinned at him. Ah, that explained a few things. Any moral officer would have to be convincing and personable to be good at the job. And given how easily Krieg was able to drop Duncan's guard, this guy was good at his job.

Why am I not surprised? Methos shook his head. Tell me, do any of the mortals you work with still have their sanity?

For the most part, Kreig agreed. But they're mortals; it's not like they have much to begin with. Relax, I'm just kidding, he hastily added at the annoyed look that crossed Duncan's face.

Yep, you're still the same Ben I knew. Better get used to this, MacLeod. He's like this sometimes, Methos interrupted with an over-exaggerated eye-roll. 

Duncan just rolled his own eyes in agreement and turned back to the ship. That's a nice ship you've got there. What's it like to serve on?

Not bad, actually. It's big, but with a small crew so there's plenty of room. I'm told that it's an experiment in long-duration voyages, to see what are the best conditions for keeping any crews emotionally healthy without taking a break from work.

And they get to deal with you. They're all dead, Methos deadpanned. Think you could give us a tour?

Sure, that was planned for anyway. The flagship and all that stuff. You gonna come? Krieg asked Duncan.

Only for a while, I have things to take care of involving Connor's estate here in New York.

I understand, Krieg nodded, Shall we get goi- oh, hello, Lieutenant Commander, he said as a shorter woman came up beside him.

Lieutenant Krieg, I do hope that you're not shirking you duties during our disembarking, she said in an official voice, though her eyes were glinting with humour.

Moi? Would I ever dare do such a thing?

she replied without even pausing. Duncan shared another worried glance with Methos. What sort of person was Krieg if he had that sort of reputation? Just make sure that you do have everything done before you take off on your shore leave.

Yes ma'am, he saluted, though there was no mistaking it for an official one. The woman seemed amused by it and smiled before walking off. Krieg watched her walk off, his eyes never leaving her body. Duncan paused for a moment, looking after the woman. There was something about her...

Methos laughed and clapped Krieg on the shoulder. I see you're still the ladies man, Ben. You really haven't changed at all.

Why change what's perfect? Krieg answered and led the two men off to the boat for their tour.

  


  


Normally the galley was a nice place to go and socialise with the crew, to get a good grip on the current mood and gossip. Not this day. Almost the entire crew had disembarked already, leaving less than a skeleton group behind, and even they would be leaving soon enough.

Though he had insisted otherwise, Jonathan decided that staying and helping the Captain with his work would be the best thing, and had enlisted the rest of the bridge crew to help out. So Ford, O'Neil, and Ortiz were in the galley, trying to make heads or tails of the mass of paperwork with little luck.

Then Ben sauntered in, two civilians travelling in his wake. Both men wore long trench coats and occasionally had to move out of the way as Ben swept his arm around the galley, extolling the virtues of the eatery while speaking fast enough to make understanding him difficult at times. The taller of the two civilians looked on with a pained expression on his face, like he wanted to be anywhere but with Krieg. The other was just smiling and talking just as quickly, joining in with the grand gestures.

Let me guess, Ben. You make sure this galley has the best food, right? Of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that you have to eat it yourself, now does it?

No, nothing at all, Ben said with a straight face, and the other men laughed. Allow me to introduce you to the bridge crew of this boat. Commander Ford, Lieutenant O'Neill, and Petty Officer Ortiz, Ben continuted, nodding at each man in turn, who murmered their own greetings to the two visitors. This is Duncan MacLeod and Adam Pierson. Two friends I've been meaning to meet for some time now.

So, Ben. Are you gonna ask us to sit and offer a drink, or are you going to make us stand here all night?

I thought I might make you stand, yeah, but I've got something else in mind. And as for that drink... Ben trailed off, rummaged around in the big fridge attached to the galley, and came out with a large crate, filled to the brim with alochol. Peirson's eyes lit up.

You are a good, good friend, he said and tore into the crate, avidly searched through bottle after bottle. MacLeod just cast a pained look over at the others seated at the table, and Jonathan just shook his head. There went any idea that Ben was meeting up with any immortals. No immortal would ever be so... immature, no matter how old. So Jonathan answered MacLeod's questions about the boat and UEO while Ben and Peirson poured over the bottles and glasses collected.

And the Captain would pick that exact time to walk into the galley, looking for his own snack break, no doubt. Jonathan sighed. All that effort and guessing, only to find that Ben was meeting some people that were no older than himself was rather anti-climactic.

Then MacLeod suddenly announced that he'd run out of time and had to be leaving. Ben stood up himself and walked the other man back to the mooring and show him off of the boat. As soon as the galley hatch closed behind them, Captain Bridger turned to Pierson and asked directly, How long have you known Ben?

Ben? God, it feels like centuries. You know how Ben can be. Adam groaned, and Jonathan stopped dead in his tracks. The tone of voice, the way the other man said it... as little as a week before, Jon would have been nodding and commiserating, all the while regretting the fact that he was stuck with such an annoying, incompetent officer. With a rush of shame, Jon realised just how easily he'd been sucked in by Krieg's idiot routine.

But the Captain only examined Pierson closer and asked frankly, How many centuries? Pierson started to say something, but finally looked up from the bottles and caught the expression on Bridger's face.

Something must've clicked for the other man because he didn't finish saying what he'd started. Instead he shut his own mouth and gazed back at the captain. Ben came back in, saw the look being exchanged, and called aloud, They know, Adam.

Pierson's head whipped around to stare at Ben fast enough that Ford thought he might have hurt something. Ben just shrugged underneath the glare. Pierson's gaze softened and he turned back to the Captain.

A few centuries here, a few there... a while, in other words, and Ford felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut. Not only had he fallen for Krill's lies, but he completely mis-judged this other fellow.

Ah. Well, carry on, then, Bridger said calmly and walked off as if nothing more serious than a stain on the floor had been the topic of conversation. The two immortals just looked after him before moving to the opposite hatch to continue the tour.

How old is your captain? Pierson asked softly.

Bridger? Late forties, I'd guess.

Late forties? Pierson whistled low as Ben held the door open. Isn't he a little young to be so smart?

You're telling me, Ben snorted. But hey, if you think he's bad, just wait until you meet Lucas.

Who's Lucas? Pierson asked as they walked through.

Ford just sat back in mild shock at the silence. He glanced over at the other two and got slightly stunned looks in reply. When Ben meant old friends he really did mean _old_ friends.

Then Jon just shook his head and went back to his paperwork, hoping to ignore that nagging voice in the back of his head that said something was up with those two immortals.


	6. Chapter 5

Methos looked in on the teenager's room and tried not to trip over too much junk. Admittedly it had been five millenia since he'd been that age, but he didn't think he'd hoarded that much junk when he'd been a teenager. He looked over at his friend and the way Ben negotiated his way around the piles of stuff. It was easy to see from that alone how important this kid had to be, which made Methos pause. Ben wasn't the type to involve himself in mortal lives.

At least, he didn't used to be. Now that he was living and working with them on a daily basis, Methos had to really wonder just what Ben was up to. He knew his old friend well enough to understand that Ben almost always had an agenda or hidden plan behind everything he did. Part of what made being his friend so much fun.

Look, Ben, can you just go away for a few minutes? I'm trying to get dressed!

And I'm here to help you do just that. I told you that red shirt was a date-killer. This one isn't much better. If you really wanna get on her good side, wear the striped one.

The striped one? the kid answered dubiously, though Methos had to agree with Ben. The striped one was a dating shirt.

Trust me on this. I may not know much, but I know women, Ben said as the boy selected the shirt and tugged it on, following the two immortals out of the room and back down to the mess hall.

It's true, Methos broke in, not bothering to hide his grin. I've seen him charm women from one nation to the next, one century to the next. It's obscene how easily he can get women to come to his side.

Face it, you were always jealous of that, Ben pointed out, desperatly trying to deflect the conversation. Ben always did hate talking about himself.

Not really, no. I happen to enjoy a good, long-term relationship myself, Methos replied, holding the mess door open and walking back in, noting that a woman had joined the group they'd left behind. She looked to be older than the rest and she spoke with a British accent.

Ah, so you must Ben's friend. My name is Kristen, she said as Ben walked his group over to them.

Adam Pierson, Methos returned smoothly, taking a hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips with a gallant flourish. Behind him, Ben cleared his throat. 

Don't what?

Just... don't, okay?

Aww, why?

Trust me on this.

Trust you, Ben? Not likely. That brought a few grins to the assembled mortals. Apparently, they felt the same way about him. Unfortunatly for them, they didn't realize that he was just kidding with Ben. Ben had proven his trustworthiness a dozen or more times over again during the time they'd known each other. In fact, Ben had helped Methos to keep his head on his shoulders more times than Methos was really comfortable with.

But Ben was a good friend and never made mention of it. Something even people like Duncan had problems with, keeping track of who saved whom and how, and most importantly, who owed whom for what.

Ben never cared for that. Something that Methos figured the mortals around him would never have guessed. Knowing Ben, he'd gone for his idiot routine to keep them at bay from asking personal questions that he really couldn't answer.

Coming back to the situation at hand, Methos dropped Kristen's hand and heaved a semi-mock sigh. She was pretty enough that Methos thought her worth the effort to persue.

Enough of this, I gotta go, the boy said, poking Ben in the ribs. Ben nodded at Methos went to escort the kid to a cab. Methos blinked at the witty banter that the two engaged in on their way out, Ben pestering about details of this mystery woman, Lucas answering back about how that was his knowledge and not Ben's.

Who is she? Methos quietly asked as soon as Ben was out of earshot. The mortals looked around at each other for a quick moment, then Kristen apparently took charge and answered.

Who is whom?

Don't play that game with me. Since you all know about us, let's just skip all the lies and stories and cut to the chase. I've known Ben for far, far longer than any of you have. I've known him long enough to realise when something is going on with him, and right now, something is, Methos challenged, well aware that he could be destroying Ben's carefully laid cover story and not really caring one way or the other.

Once again, the mortals looked like contrite children who were caught sneaking a frog into class. Well... um... you see here, he was sorta... um... married, the shy one stammered out into the silence. Then his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as Methos turned and glared at him with unbelieving eyes.

Come again? Methos nigh-demanded, pretty sure he'd misheard the linguist.

Ben Krieg used to be married to a woman, and she's working on this boat, Kristen elaborated diplomatically.

On this ship? You've got to be kidding me. Who is she- no, wait. Let me guess. About this tall, dark hair, really blue eyes? Methos held his hand off the floor.

That's her, yes, Kristen confirmed. Didn't you know, since you are such a good friend of his? Apparently, this mortal couldn't resist twisting the knife a little bit.

Given that it's been a number of years since I'd even heard from Ben, no, I didn't, Methos quietly answered, his mind buzzing with this new information. Ben was married? That just didn't make sense. No, not the Ben he knew. Which meant... Methos sighed. He was not going to enjoy what had to happen. She has got to be one incredible woman to catch his eye like that.

What do you mean? Kristen, the apparent spokeswoman, asked into the silence.

What I means is- hey, Ben! Good trip? Methos quickly switched tracks as that noteable walked back in, having sent the kid away on his date.

Pretty good. Now what's going on? Ben demanded after taking one look at the faces in the room. 

Methos responded by grabbing the crate of alcohol that his good friend had collected for this meeting and walking to one of the farthest tables away from the mortals in the mess hall to get at least a little privacy. He sank into a chair, pulling out an ancient beer and looking around for a cap remover.

Instead of getting right to the point, Methos started the conversation off about inconsequential topics, the weather, what it's like working underwater, how the pay is. Ben looked rather suspicious at the conversation, but gamely went along, willing to wait for his friend to get around to the point.

Willing to wait for only so long, though. Cut the crap, Adam, and just tell me what's going on, Ben all but growled, cutting Methos off in mid-sentence.

I could ask the same of you, Methos said without looking up from his cap remover hunt, really wanting to get at that beer. He'd be needing the alcohol for this chat. What's up with this? Your job, your life, these mortals, everything. This isn't you, Ben. What's up?

Ben went quiet for a long time, so long that Methos finally had to look up. Gone was the usual playfulness in his eyes, the curve to his lips. Ben looked old and tired.

I wish I knew, my friend. I wish I knew. My life seemed so simple a decade ago. No changes, nothing new, just working from one day to the next and keeping my head on my neck. Simple enough, right? Well, then I met someone who changed that completely.

That woman you were talking with earlier?

Nah, someone else. A man named Robert Bridger.

Bridger? Your captain's father?

His son, actually.

His son? When was this?

Almost... six years now.

Six years? Just six years? Methos gaped at Ben, almost not believing him. Six years was nothing to an immortal.

I know it's hard to believe. But it's only been six years since I met Robby. It's funny, but it's so easy to lose track of just how long six years really is. Especially for you and I, anything less than a decade can pass in an eyeblink. But now that I live and work with mortals on a daily basis, I can see now just how long six years really can be. Take a look over at O'Neil over there.

Methos dutifully turned over his shoulder to look at the group of mortals, who was staring back at them, trying to eavesdrop without being obvious about it. Methos focused on the bespeceled lieutenant.

He speaks six languages fluently and is okay in a dozen more. And he learned all of those in a little under two years. That's it, just two years. Whereupon I'm still having trouble with my languages; I can barely understand English, and I've had almost a century to use it! I suppose what I'm trying to say is that until you live and work and breathe with mortals, it's so easy to forget just how long the years can be. But now I understand what that's like and I look back on my life... and I see just how badly I was wasting all those centuries of just wandering around. I could've been learning languages, pottery, or anything other than swordplay. It's funny how it takes a group of mortals to really make me appreciate the time that I have.

Methos was speechless. No words would form in his mind. To hear something like that coming from Ben completely rocked his mind. I've never looked at it that way, Methos finally croaked out, thinking back over the fifty centuries of his life. There would always be recriminations about missed opportunities and poor choices, but it'd been so long since he'd had a mortal outlook on life that he'd forgotten what it was like. Not even when he was undercover inside the Watcher organisation did he come close to the mortals. He'd always kept his distance. What are you going to do now? Ben shrugged.

I don't know. I'm trying to perfect my English, though, he smiled softly at his own joke. I have no idea what's going to happen in the next few years. I'm sad to say that I've become extremely attached to these people and it's going to hurt when they die. I can tell you that much now.

Methos thought back over the multitude of his mortal relationships over the years, how each one of them had ended in the tragedy of their mortal nature. That it will, my friend. That it will, he softly said, knowing that Ben was set on this path of his own choice and that sooner or later he'd have to deal with the consequences of that choice.

But, enough of all this morose talk. You, Ben said, pulling out the cap remover that had so completely evaded Methos, and I, he continued, pulling out his own bottle of beer, have two hundred and thirty-seven years worth of catching up to do. What's new with you?

Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Nearly losing my head, getting caught up in a multitude of MacLeod adventures, he grinned when Ben winced in sympathy. The members of the MacLeod clan were legendary in their ability to get wrapped up in events far beyond their control and still trying to make things right, nearly killing everyone around them in the process.

That must be something to hear.

Oh, yeah. You know who Kalas was, right? Duncan finally got around to settling things with him. It was in Paris, almost fifteen years ago.

Now this I have to hear, Ben said, clinking his bottle of beer against Methos' and settling in for the story and catching up with his friend.


	7. Chapter 6

Lucas tugged at his shirt, nervously trying to smooth out any wrinkles that had escaped his last tugging only minutes before. It didn't help matters that he'd arrived over an hour ahead of when he was supposed to meet the girl, and patience wasn't something he was really good with outside of programming on his computer. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing that the real world was as easy for him to deal with as cyberspace was.

He reflected on how easily Ben could do the things he couldn't. All Ben really had to do was wink or nod and someone would jump to do his bidding, Lucas bemoaned to himself. Lucas considered himself lucky if he was able to string five words together at once.

Lucas checked his watch for the tenth time. Still twenty-seven minutes to go. Damn, those were going to just crawl by. Lucas took a sip of his water and nearly choked when a voice called his name from behind. "Lucas?" He turned, looked, and felt his jaw beginning to loosen. A woman had called his name. A _gorgeous_ woman. Green eyes, brunette hair, and a very perky smile. Then his brain caught up with his eyes and he swallowed the water first, then let his jaw open.

"Uh... Heather? I mean... yes! Yes, my name is Lucas," he blushed at his ineptitudes and cursed himself inwardly. He bet the Captain or Ben wouldn't have stammered like that. Heather didn't seem to notice his cursing and only smiled wider at his blush.

"Your picture doesn't do you justice," she said after a moment of study. Quick! What would Ben do right then? Lucas shut that line of thinking off. What Ben would do would only get himself into deep trouble.

Instead, he held out his hand to her and answered, "Same to you. It's nice to finally meet you after all this time." She took his hand and gave it a little shake. "Do you want something to drink? Coffee, tea?"

"No, thanks. If I have anything more to drink today, I think I'll explode." Lucas smiled at that, drained his glass, and left some money on the table. "You said you'd never been to New York before," Heather continued. "Where do you want to go first?"

"I was hoping to drop by the Statue at some point," he answered, Ben's advice ringing very clearly in his ears. Heather just rolled her eyes.

"Everyone wants to see the Statue first," she snickered. "But that's alright. I never get tired of seeing it for myself. Shall we?" She held out her arm, and when Lucas didn't take it on his own, reached over and seized his arm. Lucas just blushed deeply at her forward nature and she laughed.

Unfortunately, he was so focused on her arm looped around his that he didn't notice the man standing up beside him until it was too late and Lucas ran right into him. He stammered an apology and then made his way out of the coffee shop after Heather.

Duncan supposed he really shouldn't have been surprised that Methos had turned up shortly after he'd started to work his way through the mound of paperwork that was involved with settling Connor's estate. Duncan chuckled a little at the idea of being a paperless society and yet still having a dozen different forms to sign, often in triplicate. Duncan also thought the modern tax return was a vile curse from one of the deepest pits of hell.

It also shouldn't have surprised Duncan that Methos wanted to talk about his new friend. "So what did you think?"

"I didn't really meet him long enough to form an opinion," Duncan answered without looking up.

"Since when has that ever stopped you from making a snap evaluation of a person? I seem to remember something about a walk down a Parisian street with a certain graduate student..." Methos trailed off and Duncan didn't have to look up to see the smile on the older immortal's face. Oh, how he hated Methos' ability to remember obscure facts and use them to win his arguments.

"Fine. My snap evaluation is that I'm surprised he's been able to keep his position on that sub of his. Flagships don't generally tolerate free thinkers, especially in this new world."

"Try any world, any time," Methos answered wryly. "But one of Ben's best skills is the uncanny ability to ingratiate himself with anyone around him. Though the people may despise him, he simply makes himself too valuable to get rid of. I did my best to copy him when I signed up with The Watchers."

"Does he know who you are?"

"Oh, come now, MacLeod. Do you honestly think I'd be a legend if I told _everyone_ who I was?" Duncan winced at the condescending drip in the oldest immortal's voice, despite the fact that Methos had a valid point. "I met Ben when he was around your age, maybe a little younger. Then again, everyone is younger to me."

"Please, not while I'm working," Duncan hastily interrupted, not wanting to sit through one of Methos' tirades about how all the young people of the world don't have a chance of understanding what he does. Methos could go on for hours if you'd let him. The paperwork in front of him wasn't helping him much, either. Three times signing his name just to prove that he really did want the transaction to go through was just a little too much in Duncan's opinion, but it did help keep his wrists strong for his sword work. "You're sure that writing is such a great invention?" he groused.

"There are times when I wonder," Methos agreed. "But overall I'd have to say that it's better than the alternative. Plus I'd hate to think that I've wasted the last five thousand years in keeping a journal for nothing." No matter how long he knew him, Duncan would never get used to Methos' awesomely advanced age. Being immortal is one thing, but to deal with someone as old as Methos reminded Duncan that the world was a much larger place than even he gave it credit for.

"In all of history, has there ever been anything as irritating as financial paperwork?"

"Oh, you have no idea. In Egypt thirty-five hundred years ago the priests and scribes were the ones who'd do all of the writing. To ensure they had continued employment, they deliberately made the writing systems more complex and difficult for almost anyone else to understand. It made learning their language so much harder than it had to be. I mean, you really have no idea how annoying some of the fine details could be." Duncan just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, readying himself for another lecture. He should've known better than to get Methos started.

Big statue. That was Lucas' first impressions as he stood across the river from the green lady. Heather had been fantastic company, very entertaining and she even laughed at his admittedly pathetic jokes. She also laughed at his habit of blushing, so it all balanced out in some way. Lucas wasn't sure about which way to go from there, whether or not he should lead on since it was his first visit to New York.

But Heather seemed to have a handle on his uncertainty so she suggested they go to the ferry terminal gift shop . The odd thing about going there was that Lucas almost opened the door into someone's face. He was halfway through an apology when he noticed that it was the same man he'd nearly run over at the diner earlier in the day; even though he'd only had a fleeting view of the earlier man, he also had an exceedingly good memory. There was no doubt in his mind that it was the same person.

Having learned a few things from Ben, Lucas waited until he and Heather were deep into the store itself before asking her, "Do you know who that guy is?"

"No, why?"

"I swear he was in the diner with us earlier today."

"Don't swear, it's not nice and the adults don't like it," Heather answered, her lips curving into a smile.

"No, I'm serious. And now that I think about it, I'm sure I saw him on the subway trip we took here, too."

"And I thought people had to live in New York before becoming paranoid."

"I tell you, I'm serious," Lucas pressed. "Have you ever seen him before?" Heather snuck a look at the other man for a moment, then did a double-take and studied for a moment longer.

"Well... not personally, no."

"What do you mean?"

"You wouldn't be interested in that," she lamely tried.

"You know I'm interested in everything," he answered. She seemed to resist for a moment, then relented.

"A while back, my mother was giving me The Talk and mentioned something about about avoiding tall men in dark clothes, especially trench coats. I asked her what she meant and she told me about a time when she'd attracted the attentions of someone she really wasn't interested in. Long story short, she said it turned out into a case of stalking that she finally had to go to the police about. She said that it ended in a shootout and that the creep died on the scene. She specifically mentioned that he had two scars on the right side of his face."

Lucas took a look at the man again and sure enough, there were two prominent scars on the right side of his face. "You know..." his mouth started moving before he could assert brain control over it. Shootout, dead on the scene... the parallels to Ben's recent history were too strong to ignore. And Ben _did_ mention that there were other immortals walking the Earth... "Let's go meet a friend of mine," Lucas suddenly spouted and then dug out his cellphone and started dialing.

"Now? I thought I was the one giving the tour?" Heather asked. "And what about that guy?"

"Humour me, please," he started, the spoke into the phone. "Hi, Commander! Not bad, not bad. How are you? Actually, yes, I did call for a reason. Where are you? I have something I need to ask Ben and I don't know where he is. We're at the statue- yes, it's still a 'we'-... stop laughing. You're at Manhattan Mall?" Lucas looked over at Heather, whom nodded that she knew where it was. "Great, we'll be there soon and see you at the main entrance. 'Bye."

"Now are you going to tell me what's going on?" Heather pressed, but didn't object when Lucas snagged her elbow and walked her out of the gift shop. Lucas didn't realize what he'd done until after they were out in the open sunshine, then he blushed and let go quickly. He flagged down a cab, got them both in the car, and turned to answer her when he suddenly saw the man in question leave the gift shop and look directly at Lucas.

After Ben's presentation in the ward room, Lucas thought he'd seen the full emotional spectrum a person could have; Ben had gone from playful and funny to deadly serious in the space of a heartbeat, and Lucas thought that was it. But looking at that man... Lucas couldn't prevent the shiver from running up his spine. All he felt was a raw fury in the gaze, mixed with icy resolve. Lucas immediately knew that it would be some nights before he'd be able to sleep without seeing that gaze in his dreams.

"A friend of mine went through something similar," he hedged after a long minute of silence, unsure of how to broach the topic of immortals without convincing her he was totally off his rocker. "I want to get his opinion on this, that's all."

"That's all?" Heather looked dubious. "And you hustled me into here... why? I told you, that creep died."

"Because..." Lucas started lamely, but sighed with relief when the driver announced that the trip would be a little longer than usual due to traffic and started a conversation, mostly with himself, about the state of major league baseball in the city. Lucas hated trying to talk to strangers, but this was the one occasion that he was glad for it.

Katie glanced over at Kristen as she put her phone into her purse. "That was Lucas, and he wants to talk to Ben."

"Dumped already?" Kristen answered, smiling over her cup of coffee. "That's got to be a record, even for him," she continued, checking her watch.

"Not yet, he said. Just said something about wanting to talk to Ben, so he's coming here."

"He's coming here so you can take him to Ben? How do you even know where Krieg is?"

"Probably at his house by now, assuming he's done with his friends. Don't look at me like that, I told you already that he's got dozens of houses across the world. New York happens to have at least one of them."

"When will Lucas get here?"

"Given traffic right now, I'd say fifteen minutes or so. Enough time to finish your drink."

Twenty minutes later, the two women were outside the main entrance and saw Lucas emerge from the taxi with a stunningly beautiful young woman and Kristen couldn't stop herself from elbowing Katie in the ribs, as if to torment the Lieutenant Commander about "losing" Lucas' interest. Katie pointedly ignored her, instead she walked over to the cab and waved at the driver that they'd be using his services again soon.

Some quick introductions aside and the foursome were off in the taxi to the address Katie supplied, and she also took over the front seat to give directions. The trip brought them over bridges, down streets, across rivers, and finally into an area where the size of the houses and properties surrounded them spoke volumes about the prices involved. Kristen whistled low as she did some mental math and came out to a staggering number.

Their final destination proved to be a smaller house that wasn't quite a mansion, but sat on a large landscaped lot and an impressive view of the river. Three of the four passengers walked up to the front door while Katie stayed behind to settle the considerable bill. An awkward silence descended as people were unsure of what to do.

Unsure, that is, until Katie walked up, pulled a keyring out of her purse and proceeded to unlock the door and walk in without invitation or request of the owner. Lucas turned an open-mouthed look onto Kristen, whom could feel her own face screwing up in a similar expression. However, that couldn't prepare them for the sight of Katie casually dropping her purse on a convenient coffee table and start into the house proper. Heather finally had enough of being left out of the loop and demanded that she be told what was going on. Lucas murmured that he'd fill her in later while Katie turned around and waved everyone inside. "He's probably in the library," the Commander said and lead the troop through a dizzying number of doors, hallways, rooms, and a staircase.

Kristen was about to ask if they would ever get there when Katie paused in front of a set of double doors for the rest of them to catch up. She didn't even knock as she opened them both wide and walked in, and sure enough, Ben was sitting in there. He looked up from his book at the intrusion and smiled.

Kristen opened her mouth to greet the man when her voice stuck in her throat. "Library" was certainly an apt description for the room, given that the walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling bookcases that were crammed with all manner of items. The room was a full two stories and Kristen craned her neck to see just how high up the ceiling was. Katie was right when she said her ex-husband was the pack-rat type.

Ben finally noticed that someone other than Katie had arrived and stood up to formally greet his guests. His eyes lit up when they fell upon Heather and his grin widened. Kristen could see his ex-wife roll her eyes in mild disgust at his reaction. "Hello, I'm Ben Krieg. I don't believe I've met you," he said and held out his hand to the girl. When she took it to shake it, Ben changed tactics and brought her knuckles up to his mouth and bowed his head as if to kiss them.

Lucas was having none of that, though, and hastily took Heather's hand out of Ben's and clutched to it possessevly. Ben saw that and his eyes sparkled brighter in humour, though he didn't press further. "So what brings you to my house?" Lucas glanced at Heather, whom was obviously reluctant to talk to a stranger but sighed and started her story again at his proddings.

Kristen could feel her eyebrows raising when Heather mentioned the part about how the stalker had died in a hail of bullets and she could see that Ben caught on right away. "Yes, it does sound very similar to a friend of mine," he said, smoothly lying through his teeth, "and her story didn't end quite so nicely. It turned out that the sicko had a son who tattooed himself with his father's marks and tried to live out the stalker's last act. It wasn't pretty in the end," he confided.

"You think that's what's going on here?" Heather asked, her eyes widening in fear. "That my mom's stalker's son is trying to finish his father's fantasy?" Then she paused and considered the absurdity of what she just said. Fortunatly, Ben noticed this as well and spoke up before she could question the tale being spun.

"Or some whacko copying the stalker. Given how much information is freely available in this day and age, it's not surprising that more and more people are finding out about crimes like that and feeding their twisted viewpoints." Heather thought about that and then nodded. "In fact, I've got a book in here somewhere that deals with just that subject." Ben wandered over to a shelf and pulled a volume off after a short search. He handed it to her and entreated her to sit in his chair and read it for herself.

After a moment of hesitation, Heather was quickly engrossed in the book if the look on her face was anything to go by. Still, Kristen took care to lower her voice a bit when Ben pulled the two other women to the far side of the room. "Well?"

"Well what?" Ben answered, his voice just as soft.

"Now what happens?"

"I don't know, it depends on who's involved."

"Anyone you recognize?" Katie asked.

"Any immortals, you mean? Not off hand, no, but I do have some contacts in the city that I can call for information. If this guy's been in New York all this time then he's bound to have run into some of the regulars."

"Regulars?" Kristen asked, not liking the sound of that.

"Regular as meaning an immortal who's lived in New York for centuries and doesn't leave very often. It's not all that uncommon, really. Some of us like to travel, some of us don't. Every city has at least a couple of those that put down roots, and in a big way."

"So if you figure out who he is, what are you going to do?"

"Find him and talk to him, of course."

"Is that such a wise idea?" Kristen glanced over at Lucas, who was leaning over Heather's shoulder and reading the book with her. Kristen couldn't help but recognize how young the two kids were, how sad that they had gotten involved in something well over their heads through no fault of their own.

"Wise as opposed to burying our heads in the sand and pretending he's not out there?" Ben countered. "Of course, he might not be immortal. He might actually be a son or a whacko or whatnot. But we'll never know unless I ask some questions."

"How long will that take?" Katie asked, following Kristen's gaze to the teens.

"Depends on how many calls I need to make. I'll get started on that now, so why don't the two of you see if you can get some food from the kitchen and make nice with the children."

"They're not children, Krieg," Kristen countered, despite the fact that that's exactly how she saw them.

"To me, they are. To me, you all are," Ben answered with a shrug, then turned around and walked out. Kristen shot an exasperated look at Katie, who just shrugged like her ex-husband and started towards the kitchen, towing Kristen along behind her by grabbing the woman by the arm and pulling.

It took less than an hour for Ben to finally make some headway, and by then the four guests had put the books away and migrated to the more comfortable living room and were engaged in light conversation that was obviously forced to cover the gloom that would otherwise be suffocating.

Kristen was the first to notice Ben joining them, long overcoat already hanging over his arm. "I have an errand to run in the city, so feel free to enjoy yourselves here until I get back. Except you, Lucas. Don't enjoy yourself too freely, and stay away from the bedrooms," Ben joked, shaking a finger and winking baudily at the teen. "You should probably call the Captain and let him know what's going on," he continued and nodded at the phone.

While Kristen picked up the phone and started dialing, she could see Katie follow Ben to the front door to see him off. They exchanged words briefly before Ben opened the door and walked out and for a moment, Kristen could've sworn that she saw a glint of metal underneath his long jacket. Then the phone connected on the other end and she braced herself for what was going to be an unpleasant conversation.

Father James was a thirty year veteran of the Catholic church and all its functions. He knew that if anyone were to ask for advice on any topic, he'd be able to answer it with the ease that such experience gives. A Tuesday afternoon wasn't normally the most popular time to go to church, so it was quite surprising for him to walk in and find a man sitting in one of the benches, apparently without purpose. So being the naturally helpful person that he was, Father James walked over and tried to find out what sort of ailment the fellow's soul needed.

He approached the lazing guest with the well-used smile of polite intention that Father James had perfected early on in his career, despite the fact that the stranger only opened his eyes as the footsteps echoed in the empty building. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Not really, Father. Just meeting someone here."

"Then why come inside?"

"Benches are more comfortable than standing," the man answered with a smile. Then he started looking around, as if he'd heard something. Father James looked around for the source of the noise, but quickly gave up. While his ability to listen was as sharp as ever, his hearing wasn't as good as it was in his youth. It wasn't until the front door closed that Father James realized that there was ineed a newcomer in the church.

In his thirty years, Father James had never seen someone as evil looking as the new man did. Strange looking, yes. Tough looking, sure. Silly looking, most definitly. But somehow this new person just radiated evil like a tangable thing, rolling off him in waves. It was the gaze, James decided. It was the look of his eyes that made James reflexivly grip his crucafix and say a small prayer.

That look was not lost on the first man, Father James noted, whom stood to greet the second one with a wary expression. They didn't shake hands, didn't express any sort of greeting or cordial companionship. Something was definitly up. His curiosity piqued, James couldn't quite stop himself from grabbing a bucket with some cleaning supplies and slipping into one of the confessional booths across the side of the church proper, which just so happened to be close enough to let someone as hard of hearing as himself to catch most of the conversation between the strangers.

"-en Krieg," the first man said. "I'm told you've been spending time around some friends of mine."

"Sam Benti," the other man replied, his voice low and raw, fitting in with his looks easily. "Not interested in your little friends, pal. Just the girl."

"Interested how?"

"Interested in the way any man is in a girl like her." James didn't have to see the man to know he was sneering.

"Don't you think Heather's a little young for you?" Krieg asked and James winced. He despised cradle-robbing.

"Age has nothing to do with this. I will have her." Benti wasn't going to win any more points in James' book with comments like that.

"Like you tried to have her mother?"

"Oh ho, she told you about that? That's not my fault. Things would've gone so much smoother if that bitch had just agreed with me and been done with it."

"You don't see anything wrong with what you did?"

"Why should I? They're not like us, pal. You make it sound like those women matter or something."

"Oh, brother," Krieg breathed to himself.

"The mother rebuffed me," Benti continued, his voice quiet and menacing. "So I will have the daughter. Is there any more fitting punishment than for her to watch helplessly as I do to her daughter what she so selfishly kept me from doing to herself?"

"Let this drop. Just leave town and forget all about them. It'll be safer for you in the long run." Father James blinked at the steely resolve in Krieg's voice.

"What? Just give up like that? Not a chance. Nobody ever tells me _no_ and gets away with it. And I'm going to give you fair warning, pal: Don't get in my way. I don't care what you think you can do for them, but you won't stop me. Ever." Benti's voice had gone from soft menace to maniacal ranting.

Father James couldn't stand any more. He noisily clattered his tools into his bucket and walked out, taking a glance over at the enterence. The men were still standing, but James' gaze was taken by the open looks of hostility both men were weraing, the way electricity seemed to crackle in the air between them. Having been witness to many gangland activities in his time, James was sure that they were about to start fighting on the spot and he started to walk over to the phone in his office in case he needed to dial 9-1-1.

His movement seemed to attract their attentions because the two men focused on him with that murderous intent, and he froze like a deer caught in headlights. Then Benti glared back at Krieg, and walked out of the church while calling, "Don't you forget that," over his shoulder. Krieg stared after him for a long time, the heat and fury from his gaze would have been enough to melt plate steel. Then he sighed and seemed to collect himself before walking over to Father James, who was still rooted in place.

"I know you were listening in on us, Father, but don't try anything."

"Wh- what do you mean," Father James' voice quaved like it hadn't in years. He had to swallow in a suddenly dry mouth.

"What you heard isn't quite what you thought your heard. I'm sure you're taking it all out of context and I don't want to get anyone else involved in a big misunderstanding."

"How can that be taken out of context or be a misunder-"

"Besides, you were in the confessional booth. That alone requires you to keep your silence," Krieg smoothly interrupted. "Semantics and technicalities aside, are you the sort of person who could honestly look at himself in the mirror in the mornings if you broke those vows?" Krieg pressed, then turned on his own foot and walked out of the chuch. "Oh, and Father? Don't worry. This will all be taken care of, and for the better. You have my promise on that."

Then he was out the door and James could feel his knees beginning to give out. He sagged against the bench and prayed to God that Krieg was right about that.


End file.
